


Bad For The Body (even worse for my head)

by lizards



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Casual mentions of violence, M/M, Pre-Slash, Protective Frank, beat up matt, esp for each other, lissen its pre slash but u can still tell Them Boiz Gay, worried frank, yall how do tags even work? im out here tryin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizards/pseuds/lizards
Summary: Prompt:Frank and Matt, late night at a diner“We need to talk.” Matt started, shifting in his seat and letting out a small grunting noise.Frank raised his eyebrow. “Jesus, Red, you look like shit. Even more shit than when I kicked the hell out of you.”“Not hard to do,” Matt rolled his neck and let out a long breath of air. “You’re in trouble.”





	

It was late.

 

The night sky blanketed over the world outside the brightly lit neon diner in a reminder of just how _late_ it was. Franks watch ticked on his wrist and counted the seconds that Matt said he was going to be here but wasn’t. Minutes slugged by differently in there; one minute lasted an eternity for his anxiety geared mind. The bright lights and linoleum floor that smelled faintly of bleach sang so loudly that it was almost easy to not listen to his brain _screaming_ at him that this was a mistake. He needed to be anywhere _but_ here.

Yet, there he was. Like a fucking dog being called by its master.

 

Two hours ago Matt had called Frank in a panicked frenzy, insisting that they meet up in the diner that's miles away from the city. It was an hour drive from where Frank was and he meant to say _absolutely not_ but somehow in the trip from his brain to his mouth the words had turned into a smooth; ‘ _Yeah, sure.’_ They were supposed to meet nearly a half hour ago and Frank was beginning to lose his patience. Everything about it screamed that it was a setup, Frank could just _imagine_ Matt bursting through the door with a hoard of police and that stupid _smirk_ , but he stayed. Because thats all it really was, wasn’t it? Imagination.  He had tried desperately to fight against it but he somehow ended up actually _trusting_ Matt.  The guy was an idealist with his head in the clouds, but he wasn’t a bad person.

 

He pushed back the thought of being caught by keeping one hand in his pocket where he kept a spare gun. He absentmindedly nudged at the safety on the gun as he finished his second cup of coffee. The watch told him that Matt was now officially a half hour late, and Frank was done waiting. He started to scoot out of the booth and pat his pockets for his wallet when Matt waddled into the diner; gently pushing the door open and visibly wincing at the effort.

 

When Frank says _waddle_ , he means _waddle._ When Maria was pregnant with Junior the last month she stopped walking and started doing an awkward half stomp half weight shift to walk. A body shift with her feet scooting along and her hands resting on her back to support the added-on weight. Matt was doing something akin to that only in reverse; both hands braced his ribs has he shifted his body forward with a limp-legged shuffle. He looked like shit. His bottom lip swollen till it was busted, a huge dark bruise seeped out from underneath his glasses, and a cut slit from his cheekbone to his jawline. Every step was accompanied by a wince and a thin-lipped grimace. Frank itched to get up and help him walk but the determined scrunch of his brow as he marched towards Frank showed he’d probably kick his ass for trying.

 

Frank was used to Daredevil being invincible, but he wasn’t exactly used to Matt Murdock recovering. No matter how fucking crazy or headstrong he was, when you saw a blind guy hobbling towards you gripping his sides with blood still underneath his nails and his knuckles swollen and bruised, you wanted to help. Matt slid into the booth carefully across from Frank gently. Another thing it was hard to get used too; a blind guy finding you in a room full of people without even trying. The question of _Are you really blind_ ? constantly itched at Frank to ask, but he hasn’t found the right time to be _that_ big of an asshole just yet.

 

“We need to talk.” Matt started, shifting in his seat and letting out the smallest _ugh_ sound.

 

Frank raised his eyebrow. “Jesus, Red, you look like shit. Even more shit than when _I_ kicked the hell out of you.”

 

“Not hard to do,” Matt rolled his neck and let out a long breath of air. Frank laughed softly, shocked at the sound coming out of him. “You’re in trouble.”

  


“What kind of trouble?” Frank sat up straighter; eyes scanning the diner. There was a bleach-blonde waitress serving coffee to what looked like a homeless man, a cook lazily flipping burgers in the back and a woman being checked out by a guy in a sailors hat. Nobody seemed to be packing, but Franks made that mistake before.  Not that _really_ mattered anymore. In a world where guys with capes and superhammers fly across the sky and a small scientist guy turns into a huge green monster if he gets too excited, weapons stopped being the main worry a while ago.

 

Another waitress walked over and asked Matt if he wanted anything, who politely declined. She walked away with a small pitying glance over shoulder for Matt and a wary one at Frank. “Not

"Not immediate danger. Relax.” Matt leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “You need to lay low. Stop killing for a while and stop leaving a damn trail.”

 

“That right?”

 

“That's right, Frank.” Matt confirmed with a angry tilt to his mouth. “Do you even _try_ to keep a low profile anymore? People notice public threats just disappearing into thin air. People notice _you_. Dangerous people.”

 

Frank stuck his tongue in his cheek with a shake of his head. Here it goes. Damn holy roller Daredevil here to preach the gospel on how to be a fucking _Vigilante_ the right way.  “I’m not worried about being noticed. I can take whatever comes my way.”

 

“ _No_ -” Matts voice was all of a sudden very loud. People turned around and took notice, so he took a slow, deep breath. Frank itched to reach over and tug off his glasses. He wanted to see Matts eyes, the annoyance there, the _emotion._ Frank leaned back and politely put his other hand in his pocket. “No, Frank, this isn’t about whether you can take it or not. I _know_ you can’t take it. She’s-she’s _strong_ . Superhero strong. From what I can tell she’s a functioning alcoholic with a hellbent attitude. She’s not gonna give up till she finds you, and she’s _gonna_ find you.”

 

“I’ll try my luck.”

 

“You don’t _understand_ -”

 

“No, Red, _you_ don’t understand.” Frank insisted, trying _very_ hard to keep his voice low. “I’m not gonna stop doin’ what I do. It's what I _do_ , got it? You-You're so busy being holier than thou you can't understand what its like-”

 

“I _do-_ ”

 

“No. You don’t. What do you care if I get caught, huh? Wouldn’t  it be easier if I was out of the picture?”

 

Matt was silent. He squared his jaw and looked out the window with a slow exhale through his nose. His lip started bleeding; dribbling to the surface and hanging at the edge of his lip. He licked it away, but now Frank couldn’t stop looking it his mouth. As if it wasn’t red enough to start with. “If I wanted you off the streets, Frank, you’d be off the streets.”

 

It took a minute for Frank to be able to talk. When He finally did speak, there was a croak to his words. “That's bullshit. We both know it.”

 

“Listen, Frank. I’m not trying to tell you how to work-”

 

“Thats rich.”

 

“I’m telling you you're in _danger_.” Matt steamrolled on. “It's not safe.”

 

“Comes with the job description.” Frank said with a _Isn’t it obvious_ tone.

 

Matts head snapped to Frank. “It doesn’t mean you have to _die_.You-you shouldn’t have to

die for this.”

 

“There are worse things to die for.”

 

“ _Dammit_ , Frank, _listen to me_.”

 

“No. Answer me _this_ , Red, would you die for this?” Frank put both hands back on the table carefully. “Would you die for what you believe in? Don’t give me bullshit, ‘cause your beaten six ways from sunday right now.”

 

“That's different.”

 

“How in the _hell_ is that any different?”

 

“Because I’m-” Matt started and then stopped. “Because you’re-I don’t want you-” He stopped again, this time straining visibly to get his words out. “I don’t want you to feel like this, Frank. I don’t want you to go through this.”

 

“You’ve beat the fuck out of me more times than I can _count_ -”

 

“I can’t do what she does.” Matt supplies with venom seeping through his tone. _Can’t_ sounds a lot like _won’t_ , but Frank doesn’t mention it. Another thing between them that is just never the right time to talk about. “I don’t want you to see that.”

 

“ _Why_ ?” Frank asked desperately, trying to scrap to the surface of understanding on why Matt _cared_ . “Why-Why does this _matter_ to you?”

  


“ _Dammit_ \- Frank, haven’t you been listening? At all?” Matts bruised fingers inched towards Franks hands before they flinched back. A small, aborted movement that Frank wishes he wouldn’t have noticed. “I _care_ whether you die or not.  I may not agree with your-your _methods_ , but you do good. A lot of good. You’re a good person. You’re shitty at being a good person, but you’re still _good_ , Frank. There's not a whole lot of that in the world right now.”

 

Something warm and cold exploded through Frank's body at the same time. It wasn’t the words themselves, _exactly_ , but it was the way he said them. With a wide-eyed earnest tone and dripping with conviction. He _believed_ what he said. He wanted Frank to believe him. Even though he and Frank had never seen eye to eye on anything besides good and bad being black and white with no area between, here he was saying Frank was shades of grey. Static hummed through his veins and buzzed comfortably in his chest; soft and warm. Frank remembered when Maria has asked him on their first date; Frank to useless and anxious go ask her out himself. He remembers the same white noise surging through his blood then, but only vaguely. That felt like millions of years ago.

 

He pushed the thought down stubbornly and swallowelled around the desert dry feeling in his mouth. “If I was you, Red, I’d quit your day job. You’re a shitty lawyer. You make me sound like an asshole.”

 

“You _are_ an asshole,” Matt jabs weakly with no real venom in his tone.

 

Frank nodded in agreement. “That I am.”

 

Silence fell between them for a minute. The waitress came back by and asked Frank if he wanted another coffee, then dropped the check with a smile when he declined. It was this diner, Frank reasoned, that made everything feel off. It was the bright lights against Matt's hair that brought out the red just barely sneaking through it. It was the seclusion of being far away from their home but the safety of being somewhere together in public. It was the hour; slowly shifting from late night to early morning. He and Matt shouldn’t talk like this. Like they _knew_ each other, like they trusted each other. Even if it was true it only lead to trouble.

 

“Please, Frank.” Matt said finally, the desperate edge to his voice now clear and unabashed. “Just…stay low. For a while. Stay safe.”

 

“I’m not gonna promise you that.” Frank shook his head and rooted in his back pocket for his wallet, shoving the cash on the table.

Matt sighed. “You’re so hard to like sometimes.”

 

“I never asked you to like me, Red.”

 

“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “I still do.”

 

“Thought you were supposed to be smart, Lawschool.” Frank took catalog of Mat's injuries for the last time. The wild urge to take the glasses hit him again, and his hand made it all the way up to grazing the glasses’ arm before he realized what he was doing. “Ah…” Frank dropped his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to know better then choose a losing case?”

 

“Law School doesn’t teach you how to be a vigilante,” Matt said then reached up and took the glasses off like he had been planning to do it and Frank's hand reminded him. “‘Sides, guess you could say I got a blind spot for losing cases.”

 

Frank tried to stop it, but the sharp intake of breath happened on instinct. Matts right eye was swollen and black and blue, his iris had a bit of blood swimming through it and bleeding into the white. Frank was reminded how insane Matt’s pain tolerance was; how bad he must be beat if it was affecting him this badly.  Rage boiled where static previously buzzed. He wanted to get in his car and run the bitch over that did this to him. He wanted to beat them to a pulp with his own two hands, feel the blood slicking his fists as he punched the life out of the piece of shit bit by bit. The reminder of when Frank tried to shoot Matt in the head felt so far away and long ago; so completely ridiculous that he’d want to kill the guy. Remembering it felt like remembering a different person attacking Matt as he watched silently.

 

“Jesus,” Frank whispered.

 

Matt ran a swollen and bruised hand through his hair. “The pun wasn’t _that_ bad.”

 

“Why didn’t-why didn’t you _call_ me, fuck, Matt.” Frank didn’t stop himself this time; he reached out and gripped Matts chin. He tilted it gently to get a better view of the damage done and sucked in a harsh breath. It was ugly. As ugly as Murdock's pretty face could get.

 

Matts face softened. The line between his brow smoothed out and the serious line of his mouth dripped away. “I did. I am. Right now.”

 

“You should have-” Frank felt the world close in. It was just them in that moment. Completely alone in that diner. “Don’t fight this bitch again without me there, understand? Don’t-Don’t try to fuckin’ _defend_ me if this is where it gets you. I _swear to god_ I’m gonna rip her limb-from-fucking _limb_ -”

 

“Hey.” Matt leaned back out of Frank's hand and he smiled, gently. Even though his face was only a foot or so away it felt like Frank was on the other side of the diner. He wanted to be closer, wanted to smooth the bruises away and wipe cuts

clean form his skin. “After all this, I’m still a respectable, good, Catholic boy you know. Don’t make promises to god you can’t keep.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“ _Frank_ -”

 

“You run into her again, you come to me.” Frank cuts him off firmly.

Matt made a noise somewhere between a grunt

and a indignant hum. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Frank shakes his head. “I can tell. You look like you really held your own against her.”

 

“You can do better?”

 

“I use guns.”

 

“She doesn’t deserve to die, Frank.” Matts eyes was fixed somewhere distant and past Frank, but they still squinted in annoyance. “She’s been hired to find you. Who, _by the way,_ is still a fugitive from the law, and all she knows is that I attacked her. Defending you. She isn’t in the wrong. She warned me to stop fighting, but.” Matt shrugged, then winced at the sudden movement. “I’m not good at that.”

 

“Whatever, Red.”

 

“I think it’s my turn to ask. Why do _you_ care?” Matt's face was shadowed with cockiness; a self-pleased smirk falling on his lips. “What's it to you if she kicks my ass?”

 

“I-” Frank went to say _I don’t care_ but he’s a shitty liar. He does care. He cares a lot. He wants to _say_ that, but the words get stuck in his throat and he chokes on them. “I don’t want you hurt.”

 

Matt smiled. It was a genuine, _real_ smile that grew slowly and lopsided. “I don’t want you hurt either.”

 

“Good.”

“Good.”

 

“Not that you _could_ hurt me.” Frank adds, because he’s always been shit at this dance, and because he doesn’t want Murdock getting any ideas.

 

“No,” Matt laughs a breathless laugh. “Don’t think I could.” His face was soft, smile fond, eyebrows scrunched and bottom lip stuck out just a bit. His hand inched towards Franks, this time not stopping until his fingertips grazed the back of Frank's hand. “Are you going to try? To lay low, I mean. Not publicly hang people and scream about your witch hunt in the streets?”

 

“I'll try.” Frank looked down at Matt's pale bruised hand on top of his own tanned calloused one. The difference was stark and bordered unsettling, but Frank liked it. It looked right. Their different roads of fucked up merging together to make a highway. “No promises.”

 

“That's all I wanted to hear.” Matt breathed a small sigh of relief and his face turned to a grimace. “I think I better go, Frank. I gotta nurse on call that's gonna be  pissed as all hell at me when she see’s I left.” He stood, not quite all the way up straight but better than before.   _Confident_ , Frank would call it.

 

For some reason Frank wanted to knock him down. Hit him where he was weak to drag him back where they started. They wasn’t friends, Frank reminded himself, but this was different. Recognizable by the comfortable set of Matts shoulders and the hole that had burrowed its way into Frank's chest. Maybe he didn’t wanna knock Matt down. Maybe he wanted to peel back that outer layer of protection and see what he was hiding. Could he feel it too? The way their own bubble in the universe had shifted?

 

Frank stood, grabbed his keys from his pocket and threw a couple extra dollars on the table for the tip. Matt slid his glasses on and Frank missed the view already.

 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Red.” Frank leaned back against the table, his thigh hitting the corner.

 

A smile played on Matts mouth. A tug of lip that was obvious he was fighting a smile. “I’d like that.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

On the drive back Frank thinks about highways leading to a burning city, veins filled with white noise and how he could learn to fit into his new spot in Matt's world.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> think this is shitty? come scream at me about it @ tumblr user geckette
> 
> shoutout to sleepyminyard, an angel on earth that helped me with this and is more encouraging then a hang in there kitty poster <3


End file.
